It’s a new freaking year, now what.  There’s a lot of theoretical pressure surrounding a New Year.  Resolutions and such.  I usually say I won’t make a bullshit resolution and secretly do, though not saying it out loud means it’s not bound by any real expectations or hopes.  If I were to resolve myself to do something, anything, this year it would be to become good at something…other than failing.  Like knitting.  I tried to start last night but after winding the yarn ball too tight I realized it was doomed.  My first three attempts at casting on were too tight and I gave up by throwing the needles.  Of course my completely talented and handsome boyfriend was better at it than me.  Ironically, I’m trying to knit a scarf for him.  Today I will try again.  Alone.  Tight ass yarn balls and all.  New Year’s day with the dog, yarn balls in a tea cup (so they don’t roll around and tempt said dog), no kids or family and warm feet.  Nice.  If only I could enjoy it.  I’m anxious and untalented.  I suppose there are worse things.  I’ll keep plugging along, if for no other reason than to just see what happens.  My poor boyfriend.